


A Church is Burning

by Kuailong



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuailong/pseuds/Kuailong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero is quite sure there is something about Duo Maxwell. His world gets turned upside down when Duo is critically injured during a mission, and being the Perfect Soldier while dealing with new emotions is not easy. With the guiding force of the other pilots, maybe this will work out for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where There is Smoke, There is Fire

They were running, escaping the Oz base. The mission had gone tail end up fast, and Heero glanced over his shoulder to make sure Duo was keeping up. Not that he cared, he told himself, because he didn’t. The other boy was not growing on him, and he wasn’t going to touch that. Especially not at that moment. Still, Duo was keeping up rather well, and Heero knew Duo could surprise him at any moment. The boy was full of surprises, and whenever Heero expected Duo to fail in some sort of capacity the braided boy would swiftly turn the situation around. It was something Heero could appreciate. Competence was an excellent trait, one Duo had despite the silly exterior.

Duo stared in amazement at Heero as they ran. Heero was aesthetically pleasing, that was obvious. But the other boy was frighteningly competent. Duo knew he was no match for Heero Yuy, but a kid could dream, even though Duo was positive Heero was as straight as could be. After all, didn’t he have that obnoxious Relena girl? Another loud explosion sounded behind them and Duo pushed himself to go faster. Keeping up with the Perfect Soldier was hard enough, but hiding minor injuries while doing so was even rougher. Out of the corner of his eye there was a flicker of metal and Duo’s instincts kicked right in. He booked it forward and shoved Heero to the ground. He turned, pulling out his gun, but he was far too slow for the two Oz soldiers. He felt the fiery pain rip through his chest and he staggered back, swearing violently. He barely took time to aim before firing off a round in the direction of the soldiers. He wasn’t sure he had actually hit either of them, but he knew Heero would be on his toes even as he collapsed onto his knees. He pressed his hands to his wound, watching out of the corner of his eye as Heero took out the two soldiers. So much for efficiency; he’d managed to get shot, and in the chest too. He felt that tell-tale tickle in the back of his throat and nearly groaned. He would have felt an exit wound, so that meant he had a lovely new addition to his body that wasn’t exactly wanted. He suppressed a cough, knowing full well it would only cause more pain and more blood. Definitely a lung, then. Lovely. 

He braced himself against the floor with one arm, the other pressed tight against his chest. Finally, he looked up to find Heero standing over the two, now presumably dead, guards. He dropped his head again, staring in morbid fascination at the blood dripping despite his best efforts to stop it. Yeah, this was bad. He must have lost some time then, because suddenly he felt Heero crouching beside him. Without speaking, the other pilot grabbed his unoccupied arm and slung it over his own shoulder, dragging Duo up with him.

“We need to move,” was all the other pilot said. Duo nodded, stumbling forward when Heero started jogging towards the carrier bay. Thankfully, they were still on earth, and not terribly far from Quatre’s compound. Still, Duo was doubting he could make it there. They didn’t have their gundams, and Duo was really hoping that there was at least one plane or carrier in the bay. He kept a hand firmly pressed against his chest, yet despite that he was leaving a trail of blood. Thankfully, they didn’t meet much resistance. Finally, they made it to the bay. That’s when Duo’s knees finally gave out, nearly dragging Heero down with him. Yeah, that wasn’t good.

“’Ro, just go,” he ground out, still suppressing the urge to cough. He was already struggling to breathe, and he was slowing Heero down and possibly compromising the mission. But the other pilot said nothing and dragged Duo to his feet, easily supporting him and hauling him into the nearest plane. Duo continued to protest quietly; it wasn’t that he wanted to die, because he didn’t. But the mission was bigger than him, and for all the joking around he did he knew that. Still, Heero was a stubborn guy. The other pilot propped him against a bench in the plane, and headed towards the cockpit. Heero had to pick this little puddle jumper. Duo kept a hand pressed to his chest, trying really hard to ignore the puddle of blood growing beneath him. He could no longer suppress the urge to cough and he started doing just that in force. Yeah, coughing up blood was not in his top five favorite things. He wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and used that hand to steady himself again the floor as the plane launched into the air. He was struggling to stay conscious; he took to biting his lip to do so. New, different pain to focus on, and he tasted blood. He wasn’t sure if it was from the blood welling up in this throat, or if he had actually bit through his lip. He was startled by the sound of a gunshot, just one, and he really hoped Heero had been the one doing the shooting. His vision fogged out for a moment, snapping back into focus as the other pilot kneeled next to him.

“Gunshot?” Duo ground out, hoping Heero would understand the whole question contained in that one word. 

“Shot the tracking and navigation box. We don’t need to bring Oz to Quatre’s doorstep,” the other pilot said, laying down a med kit and opening it. Duo nodded, laying his head back.

Heero frowned. There was an awful lot of blood, and Duo’s shirt was soaked when he touched it. The second pilot was losing too much blood, the Heero could tell just from his first glance. There was also blood on Duo’s lips, and Heero’s frown deepened. Heero gently moved his partner’s hand out of the way. He pulled out a knife and sliced right through Duo’s shirt, expecting some sort of protest. It worried Heero that there was none. He peeled back the soaked shirt; he had grabbed what he could to clean the blood off, but he wasn’t quite sure he had enough cloth. He couldn’t see the damage very well, and he needed to. What he could see, though, made him a little nauseous. Blood bubbled out in tandem with Duo’s heaving breath, and Heero internally swore. A lung, then. They were a good twenty minutes out from Quatre’s compound, and with Duo with a sucking chest wound Heero was beginning to doubt things. Still, he plowed forward. Heero dug through the medical kit, sincerely hoping it was complete. Oz kept good med kits, Heero had learned, including basic equipment for gunshot wounds. He finally found what he was looking for: a piece of clear plastic and some medical tape. Not much, but it was exactly what Heero needed at that moment. He proceeded to clean as much of the blood off Duo’s chest as he could, allowing him to see the wound clearly. He taped the plastic down, leaving one corner free. Working around his partner’s heaving chest was a little difficult, but Heero did the best he could. Duo continuing to breathe was what mattered at the moment. He knew there wasn’t an exit wound, which could either be a good or a bad thing. He shoved a clean piece of cloth in Duo’s hand and placed it back over the wound.

“Keep pressure on it, and stay awake,” the Japanese pilot ordered, waiting for his partner to respond. Duo opened his eyes and nodded, satisfying Heero enough that he stood up and headed back towards the cockpit.


	2. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

As Heero sat down in the pilot’s chair, he fired up the radio. He had to do some quick rewiring, but he was fairly sure it would reach Quatre’s unique frequency. He was rewarded with the radio crackling to life and a somewhat familiar voice. It was one of the Maguanac Corps, Heero could tell, but he wasn’t sure which one. The voice demanded to know who he was. 

“This is Pilot 01, I need to speak with Pilot 04,” Heero said, glancing behind him to check on Duo. He frowned at Duo, who seemed to be occupied with hacking up a lung. There was silence on the radio, which Heero hoped was an affirmative answer. It was, and moments later Quatre’s voice rang through.  
“Heero, you’re a day early, what happened?” Quatre asked, and Heero hesitated for a moment.

“Mission went south. You have medical facilities there, right?” He wasn’t sure, but it was their best bet. A public hospital would ask too many questions.

“We do. Heero, are you hurt? What happened?” Quatre was beginning to sound a little distressed, and Heero knew his answer wouldn’t alleviate the other pilot’s worry.

“Not me. Duo’s been shot. Can you have a team standing by? Our ETA is fifteen,” Heero replied stoically, glancing down at the navigation to double check his answer. He frowned at the sounds of wet coughing behind him.

“Duo? We can, but how bad is it?” Again, Heero knew how bad his answer would sound. But the information had to get out. He glanced down at the instrument panel again, trying to word his answer so it wouldn't worry Quatre too much but would still convey the severity of the situation.

“Chest wound. Nearly positive the bullet hit a lung, he’s lost a lot of blood.” Heero’s reply was short and to the point, there was no helping it. He couldn’t hide the facts from Quatre, not really. Not with Quatre’s special abilities and the fact that the other boy could always tell when Heero lied. Even hundreds of miles apart. Heero checked the panel again, to make sure they weren’t being followed. He would have done so sooner, but he had been distracted. He cursed himself, even as Quatre’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Heero … Is he going to make it?” The question soft, Heero barely made it out over the radio’s natural static. His voice caught in his throat, lie to set Quatre at ease, or tell the truth and likely send the other pilot into a panic. A year ago he wouldn’t have had to make this choice; a year ago he wouldn’t be jeopardizing a mission to save a comrade. A year ago, he didn’t have comrades. Friends, his mind supplied. Friends. Something he never expected to have. So lost in his own thought process was he, he didn’t hear the first few times Quatre called to him. The third time, however, he caught it. Quatre’s voice so laced with worry, he cringed.

“I don’t know. I’ll do everything in my power to get him there, though.” He spoke with conviction; this was another mission, another operation. If he thought about it that way, and not in terms of his friend, maybe even the boy he had feelings for, dying or living, maybe he could do this. The back was suddenly quiet, and something within Heero lurched. He quickly glanced down at the panel; there wasn’t much time before he had to manually pilot the plane to land it. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Heero said suddenly, cutting off the radio. He wasted no time in returning to the back, and something inside him shifted. Duo had slid to the side, and there was no movement. Heero stumbled forward, straightening his partner on the floor. He pressed shaking fingers to Duo’s neck, trying to still himself. He shouldn’t be shaking this much. He firmly pushed down on his panic, locking it away, and pressed two fingers against Duo’s neck. He waited with bated breath, not daring to move in case he missed something. But there, it was faint, and thready, but he wasn’t … Heero shook his head. Not the time for that. He pressed a palm against the other pilot’s chest, just to double check. You always double checked. There was no movement. 

They all had first aid training, enough to care for themselves and just a bit extra in caring for others. Heero honestly had never expected to use this particular skill, never figured he’d care enough or that he’d even be able to save anyone. It was war, and he was a terrorist. There was no denying that. But he remembered vividly what he had to do, and he had limited time to do it. Between landing the plane and Duo running out of time, he had no choice. He leaned down and ran his hand over Duo’s mouth, trying to wipe as much blood away as possible. He didn’t even take time to wipe his hand off; he dove directly in. He straightened his partner’s head and tilted it back, he was already down on his knees, and he leaned forward. He didn’t think he would ever forget the taste of Duo’s blood; it would haunt him for years to come. The rest really was a blur; he knew what he was doing, but he viewed it all through a haze.

In the background he heard the proximity alarm from the instrument panel, but he couldn’t stop, not now. Thankfully, shortly after the alarm had started sounding Duo bucked under him and started coughing, and everything snapped back into focus. He quickly sent a thanks to whatever god was watching over them as he turned Duo over and watched the other pilot vomit blood. That was a damned lot of blood. But Duo was breathing, if extremely laboriously. He ran bloody fingers through Duo’s bangs, calling the other pilot. There was no response, but Heero really didn’t expect one. He did his best to prop Duo up so he wouldn’t choke on his own blood, because damned if he was letting Duo slip under again. He quickly moved back into the cockpit; they were minutes out from the compound, close enough he had to immediately start the landing process. He radioed ahead for the okay, and was surprised to hear Wufei’s voice come back through the radio. 

“You’re clear, Yuy. Get in here,” the Chinese pilot said, and, while Heero knew the other could not hear his nod, he nodded and radioed back assent. He didn’t have time to explain what had just happened; he was focused on landing the damn plane. The runway was short, but thankfully he had taken a small plane. For someone used to piloting shuttles and a gundam alone, a little plane earth side was little trouble. He landed without incident and taxied the thing into the hangar. Wouldn’t do to leave an OZ plane in plain sight. After that, he didn’t care. He let the damn thing sit there, moving to the back and checking Duo over once more. Still breathing, which was all he could ask for. He scooped the other pilot up and kicked the release for the door, hands being full. The other three pilots were waiting for him, but he had one objective. Just as Quatre said, there was a med team waiting and Heero reluctantly relinquished Duo to them. He watched them roll Duo away; he was tuning out sounds, and he didn’t want to hear what they were saying. If he could keep this level of disbelief, maybe he wouldn’t break down in front of the three people that needed to see him as the Perfect Soldier. He didn’t jump when a hand was laid on his shoulder, but he turned sharply to look at Wufei. The other pilot was looking at him oddly, as if appraising him. It took Heero a minute, but he realized what pilot 05 was doing.

“I’m not hurt.” He said, lacking the conviction his voice usually held. Wufei looked at him a moment longer, that peculiar look still in his dark eyes. It was Quatre that explained things, always Quatre.

“You’re covered in blood Heero, and there’s ...” the blond pilot paused, and Heero looked puzzled at him. “There is blood on your lips.” Oh. That explained it. He looked stricken for a moment before answering Quatre.

“He stopped breathing,” he said simply, though it wasn’t that simple, and he could tell that his attempt to reach his normal level of indifference had failed, because both Wufei and Trowa were giving him odd looks. Quatre just looked … like he wasn’t surprised. Like he knew Heero’s world was falling apart and that Duo was the cause. That damn smirk like he just knew what was going on. Heero wanted to turn away, wanted to try and save face. But suddenly, he was just tired. He was done playing, done trying. His shoulders sagged but he managed to stay upright. Quatre was at his side immediately, shoring him up. Heero turned to Quatre and tried to speak, tried to say something, but he blinked and felt darkness envelop him.


	3. Fire Warms the Coldest Hearth

Heero came to slowly, not his usual alert wakefulness. This kind of waking up usually meant he had overtaxed something, and as the past few days hit him, he realized why. He had passed out, there was no denying that. Three days without sleep and emotional turmoil tended to drain a person, even if said person was a trained soldier. Before his eyes opened, he wasn’t stupid; even waking slowly, he had trained senses and instincts: he could tell there was someone in the room. But he wasn’t tied down, and his last memory was of the other pilots safe in one of Quatre’s compounds. It took him a minute, but he identified the other person as Quatre. He finally let himself wake visibly, sitting up and turning to the blonde pilot. 

“Heero! Good, you’re awake!” Quatre was the only other pilot that could come close to Duo’s exuberance. Duo. Shit.

“Duo?” He asked cautiously, unconsciously using the pilot’s first name. Quatre looked at him knowingly before shaking his head, but in a confused manner, not … bad.

“We don’t know, you’ve only been unconscious for about an hour. Trowa and Wufei are waiting for us. Would you like to go wait with them?” Heero nodded, already swinging his legs over the bed. He was tired, not lethargic, and it was mostly relief at reaching their destination that had caused the black out. Again, somehow Quatre knew this. Well, not somehow. The third pilot had that weird empathy that the rest of them just took for granted. It was war; they each used what they had to do what they needed to. And Duo and Quatre were close, anyway. Wufei had once mentioned to him the two people less suited to war than the rest of them had banded together. But Wufei had never had a close mission with Duo; Heero knew that Duo was more suited for this war than the rest of them. There was a visible change in the second pilot that one only saw when they were up close. Fought near him. And the nightmares. Duo would jerk awake, and Heero could tell the other boy stifled his screams. The movement generally woke Heero; there were too many unanswered questions about the braided pilot. Too many unknowns. And yet Heero found himself inexplicably drawn to the other boy, as if some guiding hand was directing him to what his soul sought, what he needed.

Quatre looked like he might have hovered if Heero had shown any sign of distress. In fact, the blonde boy was looking at Heero oddly, not quite the knowing stare, but a puzzled look. Heero grunted. He was pointedly trying to tamp down on thinking about his feelings for Duo Maxwell. He needed to focus on the here and now and the wellbeing of a … friend. When Duo recovered, not if, he wasn’t going there, no, when Duo recovered, maybe Heero would bring it up. Maybe he wouldn’t, because the mission came first, and he had nearly jeopardized it to see Duo to safety. Quatre didn’t look convinced, but the other pilot led him out into the hallway. Heero had a sneaking suspicion that Quatre was going to force things, and for some bizarre reason, Heero couldn’t decide if that was what he wanted or not. What he wanted had never factored into things before, why should it now? But he was fifteen, didn’t he deserve a little bit of happiness? But it could jeopardize the mission, he was the Perfect Soldier after all, it was what he was trained to be. His mind ran in uncertain circles the entire walk, until he finally started paying attention to his surroundings and found himself in a small room; it looked like a waiting room. There were a few chairs scattered about, someone had clustered a few in a corner, out of the way. This was where Wufei and Trowa were perched, alert for it being well into the night. But they were all soldiers and trained to adjust sleep schedules to suit their needs. Quatre nearly guided Heero to a chair, but it didn’t bother the Japanese pilot much, he was headed there anyway. Quatre turned to Trowa.

“Any news?” The blond asked Trowa, the latter throwing a quick glance at Heero.

“No.” Heero cast his eyes downward, startled to find he was wearing different clothes. He touched his face. They must have cleaned him up. He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or not; if he couldn’t trust the other pilots, well, he’d be back where he was before. Alone. He used to think that’s what he wanted, where he belonged. But this ragtag group of teenagers had shown him something else, and he was going to cling to it with all of his strength. He would see them all through this war, he had reasons to see the end of it himself now. Or, at least, he hoped he did. And they all fed off each other’s strengths and weaknesses so well. He ignored the rest of Quatre and Trowa’s conversation, but he felt eyes on him. He turned and faced Wufei, trying in vain for that indifferent scowl he usually wore. He couldn’t seem to dig it up; he just felt tired and drained, and he suspected his face showed that because the expression on Wufei’s face was not something he usually saw. Concern from the Chinese pilot, and something else Heero couldn’t quite identify.

“How did he get shot?” The fifth pilot asked, and Heero paused. He really hadn’t thought about that, and he flipped mentally bask through the events. Something tightened in his chest, and he grimaced, looking back down at the floor.

“He pushed me out of the way of two guards. That was when.” Heero said softly, his hands clenching into fists. Why? Why had Duo done that? His heart knew the answer, but he didn’t want to face that. He didn’t want to hope. Wufei was silent, and Heero glanced back up at Wufei, who had another one of those unreadable expressions on his face. It felt to Heero like he was losing his ability to read people, losing his edge. Maybe it was exhaustion, he thought, he hoped.


	4. Fan the Flames

None of them slept, every one in mission mode. High alert. It was several hours before any word was had. It came in the form of a doctor, and Quatre rose to meet the man. Once again, Heero was amazed at the respect Quatre received from the men around him. Heero rose as well at the approach, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the other two pilots rising. He schooled his expression into neutrality, and he suspected the other’s doing the same. But they were all worried, he could tell. Heero stiffened, expecting the worst news. It had taken too long to get here; there had been far too much blood. They stood in silence, until Quatre broke it.

“How is he?” The blonde pilot asked. Heero was grateful for how Quatre phrased his words. Four sets of intense stares centered on the doctor, and Heero watched the man fidget.

“He made it through surgery. You pilots are made of strong stuff; we honestly were not expecting him to make it. His condition is still critical, but if he pulls through the next twenty four hours he’ll recover just fine,” the doctor reported, and Heero felt, rather than heard, a collective sigh of relief. Heero was torn on whether to ask to see him or try and remain indifferent. He was sure he had lost the effect of his mask around the other pilots by now, but it was so deeply ingrained in his person. Thankfully, Quatre saved him from having to make the decision.

“Can we see him?” Quatre asked. The doctor nodded and beckoned to them before turning back and heading through the doors. The medical area was small but well stocked, Heero thought as they walked through it. The doctor paused at a door, looking uncertainly at the pilots. Heero suspected he was looking at them as teenagers, not the full-fledged soldiers they actually were. It was Wufei this time who spoke.

“We are soldiers. Not children. Nothing beyond that door will harm us, we’ve seen worse. We’ve done worse.” The Chinese pilot was irritated, irked enough for all of them. The doctor started and shrugged, motioning to the door.

“He’s beyond there. There’s a nurse standing by in you need anything,” the doctor said, and then he fled. Heero could just hear Duo’s dry comments on the man’s behavior, and the inappropriate snickering. He turned to the door. No one had opened it yet, and he sensed the other pilot’s trepidation. Despite Wufei’s words, that was their comrade on the other side of that door. Their friend. Wufei finally made a noise of disgust which Heero suspected was more towards Wufei himself than anything else, and opened the door. He stopped dead, and blanched. Heero almost did not want to see what would unnerve Wufei enough for him to turn such a peculiar shade of white, but he had to know. It seemed so did Quatre and Trowa, and they bunched up behind Wufei, forcing the Chinese pilot to step inside. They all soon saw what had caused such a reaction in their fellow pilot. There was an audible gasp from Quatre, but both Heero and Trowa just stood silently.

They’d all been hurt, of course they had, but nothing like this. Nothing so severe. Heero clenched his hands into fists; he could feel his nails digging into his palms. He felt a hand descend on his shoulder, and by feel alone he could tell it was Trowa. Someone had closed the door behind them, at least giving them privacy. He turned his attention back to Duo. To Heero it seemed there were tubes and wires everywhere, but that wasn’t what had disturbed him the most. The ventilator was what startled him. That was what had likely caused the reaction in the other pilots too. Heero broke away from the others and approached the bed; the braided pilot had at least been cleaned up. Heero didn’t think he could have stood seeing more of Duo’s blood spilled. There was a chair by the bed and he let himself fall into it, reaching out to touch Duo’s face. He was so pale, and cold. But he was alive, and he was going to stay that way. Heero made a silent vow to himself to ensure that. He was barely aware of the others collecting chairs and settling around the room. He was thankful for their silent support. Heero finally steeled himself and carefully took Duo’s hand in his own, clutching it like it was his only line to life. He hated how cold the braided pilot’s hand was, but the calculating part of his mind knew it was from the blood loss. He still didn’t like it. The only sounds in the room were the machines and the other pilot’s breathing, they sat in such pseudo-silence for what seemed like a very long time to Heero. Occasionally Heero would reach up and smooth back Duo’s bangs. Finally, he heard the other pilots stirring and standing up. It seemed by mutual agreement that they moved. 

“Heero, we’re going to sleep. One of us will come relieve you in a few hours,” the blonde pilot said. Heero thanked whatever god was out there that Quatre could tell what everyone needed before they knew themselves. He acknowledged Quatre’s words with a nod. Heero was soon left alone in the room. He didn’t dare sleep. He stayed on guard, senses tuned to the door and the room, even with his attention on Duo. At least it gave him some time to sort his feelings out. Because clearly he had feelings for Duo. But he was uncertain about acting on them, he didn’t dare jeopardize their mission, but any of them could be captured or killed at any moment, the whole incident proved that. And there was the matter of Duo’s feelings, did the other pilot care for Heero? There was nothing like this in his training, nothing dealing with love, or feelings, or even emotions. Was it love? Was this what love felt like? Heero was so uncertain and unsure about it all, more so than he had ever been in his life. Was love the urge to protect something so dear to you so strongly because you couldn’t dare lose it? Was it the fact that Heero’s entire world seemed turned on its side? Was Duo even gay? Hell, was Heero himself gay? That, he supposed, he could ask Quatre. Because Quatre had Trowa, and, well, Quatre seemed to know just what was happening. But talking about his feelings with another living soul? That terrified Heero. His mind ran in circles, even as he stared at the wall in front of him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, look at Duo too long, because his world tilted a little farther each time he did. He was terrified, truly and utterly terrified of losing Duo. He couldn’t imagine a world without Duo Maxwell, without their, his braided idiot.


	5. Adding Fuel to the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand I uploaded the wrong chapter so many months ago! Sorry!

Quatre sighed as he closed the door behind them. Wufei had gone ahead, always on his own. It pained Quatre to see Wufei alone, especially since the rest of them seemed to pair off quite nicely. But there was that seething pain in Wufei’s soul that Quatre so clearly felt. The Chinese pilot just wasn’t ready, Quatre knew. The blonde leaned into his partner, feeling the taller boy's arm drape around his shoulder. They had never hid their relationship from the other pilots, Quatre wasn’t ashamed, and when he and Trowa had discussed it, neither was the brunette. Quatre sighed and zoned in on the feeling of Heero, just one last double check to make sure it was alright to leave Heero alone. Heero’s heart and soul were a mess at that moment, but Quatre knew that was not the time to approach him about it. He would, when Duo was better. If anyone could sort those two out, he could. And they needed sorted; it pained Quatre to see that this was the turning point, that it took this to open Heero’s heart. Heero was hurting, yes, that much was obvious, but Quatre felt the first pilot needed his privacy. Quatre found nothing terribly amiss with Heero at that moment, and he tuned out, turning to look up at Trowa. He nodded to his partner, and they started down the hall. When they were far past earshot of the room, Trowa spoke.

“Duo and Heero?” he asked softly, and Quatre knew Trowa had his own way of reading people. Quatre nodded, sighing.

“I think Heero’s finally acknowledging his feelings. I’m sorry it took this for him to see it, but maybe they can stop pining over each other. They’re made for each other, they just don’t see it. Duo has to pull through, he has to. If he doesn’t, we might lose Heero too. I... we can’t lose one of us, let alone two.” He added the last part softly, pain evident in his voice. He shivered and pressed closer to Trowa.

“Duo is strong. He will pull through,” Trowa said quietly. He was worried, Quatre knew. They all were. It had only been recently that they had really become a team. This was the first time any one of them had been injured this badly. Quatre was an optimist, but actually seeing Duo had brought fears to the forefront of the blonde’s mind. He felt Trowa’s arm tighten around his shoulder. They walked silently for a bit, until Trowa finally steered him into their shared room. The compound had enough rooms for all of them, but both Quatre and Trowa preferred to sleep together. Dawn was swiftly approaching; they had been awake all night. Quatre decided he would get a few hours of sleep then relieve Heero, if he could convince the other boy to leave Duo’s side. He wasn’t sure he could. He slipped off his shirt and crawled into the bed, knowing Trowa preferred to sleep on the outside. Even when they were safely ensconced in his compound. He felt Trowa swiftly follow, and the other boy wrapped his arms around Quatre. It pleased the blonde that if he could just get Duo and Heero to talk, they would enjoy the same things he did with Trowa. And he would find someone for Wufei. They all deserved a chance at happiness, as each of their childhoods had been stolen in some way. He settled against Trowa and let himself fall asleep.

Quatre wasn’t sure how long they had slept, but he was suddenly awoken by such strong mental anguish that he physically hurt. He bolted upright in the bed, dislodging Trowa’s arm. He hunched over himself, trying to pick through the pain to find the cause. It became far too clear far too quickly, and Quatre turned to wake Trowa. He found the other boy awake and watching him. 

“Heero. I’ll go get Wufei,” was all the blonde needed to say, Trowa was already out of the bed and slipping on a shirt. Quatre moved a little slower; he couldn’t shut out this kind of pain, and whatever was causing Heero this kind of angst didn’t bode well for the rest of them. Trowa was already out the door and down the hall at a jog before Quatre had gotten his shirt on. He moved quickly, bolting down the hallway in the opposite direction. He halted suddenly at Wufei’’s door, and slammed his hands against it. They needed to find out what was going on, and they needed to be together. That, Quatre knew without even having to think about it. The door finally opened, Wufei standing there with his hair down and clearly in pajamas. The Chinese pilot looked startled to see Quatre, a peculiar look on his face. It was that moment Quatre realized he was crying; he didn’t know if he had the words to explain what was going on. But Wufei just shook his head when Quatre opened his mouth.

“Lead on.” Wufei said, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Quatre nodded, and took off down the hall. Quatre felt Wufei close behind, but the blonde was zeroing in on Heero, trying to figure out what was wrong. He couldn’t sift through the pain; it was far too intense for him to touch very deeply. But he let it guide him through the halls; let it lead him to Heero. Whatever it was, they all needed to be together. Quatre and Wufei found themselves back in the small waiting room, to the sight of Trowa kneeling in front of Heero on the floor. They approached the other two, and Quatre flinched at the look in Heero’’s eyes. Quatre bent down next to Trowa and turned to look at his partner.  
“Do you know what happened?” the blonde asked Trowa. The brunette shook his head, his eyes still trained on Heero. 

“He won’t respond to me.” Trowa said by way of explanation to Quatre. To Quatre it seemed weird that they were able to get this close to Heero in this state without getting attacked.

“Have you asked anyone else?” Wufei asked, turning towards the large double doors before turning back. Trowa shook his head again, but stiffened instantly when Heero seemed to draw in on himself further, hugging his knees to his chest even tighter. The rest of the pilots suddenly went still and silent.

“His heart … his heart stopped.” It was barely a whisper, but the three pilots were in close enough proximity to hear Heero’s words. Wufei turned and swore violently in his native language. Quatre’s shoulders slumped and he absently reached out for his partner. This was exactly what Quatre had been afraid of, but Heero’s words didn’t mean anything final, not yet at least. He was about to turn to Wufei when he felt the other pilot stalk off in the direction of the double doors, and presumably, some answers.


	6. Go Up in Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeee, beta'd by Tokuu. New person!

Heero sat in silence, he could tell the other pilots were worried, and he had missed where ever Wufei had gone off to. He was too preoccupied with everything else. He hugged his knees tighter, feeling a hand descend on top of his own. It was small, clearly Quatre, but Heero didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Everything was overshadowed by the screeching of alarms. Even having left the room, his mind could not forget the sound. His ears rang with it, and it chilled him to his core. He couldn’t lose Duo, not after everything that had come to light. There was too much unsaid, too much they had yet to do. He was trapped in this nightmare, and he wished every second that he would wake up, that it would be a nightmare, that this was not happening. His newly awakened feelings were raw, exposed like a nerve. He dropped his head, laying it on his knees, and closed his eyes. He tried to will the fear away, bury the feelings until he could deal with them. He tried to push past the raw memories, past the sounds echoing in his mind and the flashing screens. He couldn’t. He was weak, he was losing his edge. The edge that kept him alive, that proved his worth to the cause.

“Heero, stop.” Heero jerked his head up and stared at Quatre. The blonde pilot was looking at him sternly. “You are not weak. You’re just overwhelmed. Having feelings is not a weakness, if anything, it makes one stronger.” Heero stared at Quatre. He tried to digest the other’s words, tried to take them to heart. But Quatre was right, he was overwhelmed. It had taken this to wake him up, for him to see his feelings, and he hated himself for it. If he lost Duo now, well, he couldn’t face that. He wouldn’t face that. It felt like part of his soul had always belonged to Duo, now that he could see it. How he worked so in sync with the braided pilot, how he wasn’t as harsh, how he enjoyed being around Duo. How the term idiot had gone from an insult to an endearment so fast Heero couldn’t even pinpoint the time it had happened. Quatre’s hand moved to his arm and the blonde pilot locked eyes with him. There was a promise in those blue eyes, of a later talk, of a private discussion. Heero suddenly realized if anyone could sort him out, it would be Quatre. The Arabian pilot knew exactly what he was going through, Quatre had Trowa, and likely, had all the same fears Heero did. Heero nodded minutely at Quatre, acknowledging the other’s offer and accepting it. The moment was disrupted when Wufei came stalking back in.

“They have him stabilized. We can go back in any time.” The Chinese pilot reported. Heero noticed that Wufei looked rather determined, but he couldn’t figure out why. Still, he could return to Duo’s side. Duo wasn’t gone. That was what mattered. He uncurled, to find Trowa extending a hand down to him. Heero took it, using the Prussian pilot’s help to stand. He felt off balance, wobbly even. He felt Quatre’s eyes on him and he turned to face the blonde.

“I know we’re not going to get you to leave Duo’s side, and I’m fairly confident none of us want to leave for too long again ourselves, but if we bring food and blankets, will you eat and try to sleep? We’re not leaving.” The blonde said softly, and Heero blinked. He had been awake for several days at the point, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Besides, he trusted the other pilots; someone would be on guard no matter what. He slowly nodded to Quatre, and the blonde pilot broke away, presumably to fetch said food and blankets. His shoulders sagged once more; he had not realized how tired he was. He started the trek back to Duo’s room, feeling Wufei and Trowa behind him. He shuddered when he reached the door, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that again, not after what had happened. He stood staring down the door for a few moments before Wufei reached around him and opened it. Leave it to the Chinese pilot to face things head on, or get his feet moving. The room looked the same as the first time he had entered it, and different from when he had been shoved out of it. There were no alarms going off, thankfully, and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The slightly unsteady beeping of the EKG was comforting after earlier. He forced himself to walk inside and return to his chair. He heard chairs scraping the floor behind him as Trowa and Wufei settled down beside him. 

Heero reached out and pulled Duo’s limp hand in his own, it was slightly warmer than before, but still not the braided pilot’s normal temperature. He sighed softly, the hiss of the ventilator masking the noise. He leaned forward and pushed back Duo’s bangs with his free hand, placing a chaste kiss on the other boy’s forehead. He was too wrung out to care that the other pilots had witnessed it. Besides, his actions had already spoken for him; he could tell the other pilots knew. He leaned back in the chair while keeping his hand on Duo’s. He kept wishing for Duo to wake up, so that he could see the American pilot’s violet eyes. Realistically, he didn’t want to see Duo wake to this, he knew the braided pilot would not react well to the situation. He was almost glad they kept him sedated, so that he didn’t have to face the inevitable panic Duo would have. He ran his fingers through the end of Duo’s braid trying to comfort himself. Trying to tell himself that this was temporary, that soon Duo would be back to normal, and he’d have his idiot back.


	7. Flare Up

Quatre quickly returned with several blankets in tow and a man walking behind him with trays of food. Heero realized belatedly Quatre meant for all of them to eat and rest. He couldn’t fault the other boy’s logic, just because one of their own was down, didn’t mean the rest of them had a vacation. The man that had followed Quatre left after setting the trays down, and Heero relaxed a bit. He hadn’t realized he had been on edge, but with just the other pilots, he felt safe. Quatre placed a tray in front of him and he mechanically ate, if he had been asked later what he had eaten, he would not have been able to say. He was running on reserves, exhausted and drained. Food out of the way, he scooted the chair closer to Duo’s bed, and curled up on it, clutching the other pilot’s braid in his hands. He was asleep before Quatre draped the blanket over him.

Heero wasn’t sure how long he slept, there weren’t windows in the room, but by the feel of things, it must have been several hours. He hadn’t changed positions at all, which was normal, and he blinked when he found Duo’s braid in his hands. He vaguely recalled holding it, but had he really been clinging to it as he slept? As if he couldn’t make things any more obvious to the other pilots. He gently placed the braid back beside Duo and stood. He stretched, he must have been asleep longer than he thought, and he was much more stiff than a few hours would have made him. He glanced around the room; he was alone, which surprised him, until he glanced down at the bedside table. A sandwich was sitting there, along with his laptop and a note placed atop that. He picked up the note, noticing Quatre’s elegant handwriting instantly. Apparently Wufei and Trowa had been called for a mission, and Quatre was seeing them off. The note’s ending was left open, and Heero suspected Quatre was trying to hint that maybe they should have that talk that was promised. Well, Heero surmised, he was rested, and he felt as stable as he could possibly be. He checked the clock on the wall; they hadn’t reached that twenty four hour mark, not yet at least. 

He looked down at the table again, noticing something he hadn’t before. Sitting innocuously on top of his laptop was the flash drive containing the information he and Duo had been sent after. He sighed, picking it and his laptop up before sitting down. He hadn’t reported in, and he was a few hours past the time he was supposed to have. He ignored the sandwich; he wasn’t terribly hungry, and opened and booted up his laptop. Plugging in the flash drive, he downloaded the information then wiped clean the drive. Neatly packaging the information up and sending it off with his mission report only took about ten minutes in total, and he was again left with not much to do. He skimmed through his email, nothing new, not even a new mission. He wasn’t sure he would have taken one even if it had been provided. He closed the laptop and set it aside, returning to his vigil beside Duo. 

He was so torn about everything; the mission, the future, Duo, the other pilots. So many things. He felt stretched too thin, already he had shown vulnerability to the other pilots, shown he was human. He should not have shown such weakness in front of other people, he needed to be the pillar, the Perfect Soldier. And yet he had fallen completely apart as his world crumbled around Duo Maxwell. He stared at the boy in question, he needed to sort things out before the next mission, or he could endanger everything. Even the people he cared about. And he did care about the other pilots; they were like a band of brothers. He absently wondered if that was what the Doctors had in mind for them. To form a small militia of young boys. What did it matter, he had orders, he followed them. Feelings, he was close to deciding, might not be worth it. The physical pain that came with them, that reared its head every time he looked at Duo, was distracting. He slumped down in his seat. There were too many unknowns, he wasn’t sure Duo even felt the same. And that was what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? He had feelings for Duo, but he didn’t know if the other boy returned those feelings. He supposed, for now, he’d live in bit of a dream world. Let himself believe it was possible.

Heero ran fingers along the side of Duo’s face, musing to himself how innocent and peaceful Duo looked sleeping. He didn’t know much of the other boy’s past, only what Duo had revealed and what the other boy said in his sleep. But Heero knew the reputation of L2, and really, the first pilot thought, you needed a certain personality and past to wish to become a soldier and terrorist at the age of 15; to withstand the years of rigorous training and ruthless teachers. It took a tendency toward the suicidal to pull off much of what they did, a disregard for their own lives. He didn’t like where his mind was heading, so he picked up Duo’s hand to distract himself. He glanced over the monitors, quickly coming to the conclusion that maybe things were a bit less dire. He returned his gaze to Duo’s face when he heard the door open behind him. He didn’t turn immediately; he recognized it was Quatre by how the other boy moved.

“Heero?” The blonde asked, and Heero did turn and nod. Quatre seemed relieved, but Heero could not ascertain to as why. The Arabian pilot moved into the room and took up the empty seat beside Heero. “I’ve promised myself to sort you and Duo out, but we should probably sort you out first.” The blonde pilot said softly.


	8. A Baptism by Fire

Heero blinked, did he need sorting out? Probably. He could only guess at the mess of feelings Quatre was probably getting from him. If Quatre’s gift worked like that, Heero had never had a reason to ask. And anyway, maybe if Heero actually spoke about what he was feeling he could understand it better. But he was so used to keeping things bottled up, buried deep inside. He turned away, everything was still so raw. If he spoke now, he wasn’t sure he could hide anything. And hiding was what he did, what he was used to. Still, Quatre was offering to help him sort this all out, and Duo didn’t need him like he was now. A mess. He needed to, at least, be strong for Duo. He realized he had been silent for a while, that he had not responded to Quatre. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but the blonde boy saved him from answering.

“I’m sorry it took this for you to see what I have seen for a while. What Duo sees. You’ve always kept yourself guarded, sometimes it’s hard for me to tell what you’re feeling, and you bury things deep. Duo was afraid to approach you, and I could not reassure him of your feelings.” Quatre’s voice was soft, but those words hit Heero hard. His head whipped around and he stared at Quatre, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Then Duo …” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, to even hope. Not after he had failed so spectacularly to protect Duo.

“From what I’ve felt and what he has told me, yes. He was afraid to hope, though. It’s understandable, considering what he has gone through. And he didn’t want to ruin your friendship, or the group as a whole, with his feelings. That was his main fear, that you would hate him for it. That it would tear us all apart.” Heero’s frown deepened.

“He’s told you of his past? And I could never, would never hate him. I see that now.” Heero shook his head, yes, it had taken this to wake him up, but he looked back through his time with Duo, suddenly realizing Duo had always been different. He had always acted different around Duo, subtly so, but he noticed the pattern. Yes, the other pilots were his friends, but Duo had always been different. Quatre’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“He has shared some things, not a lot. And just with me, apparently. I thought he might have shared some with you, but evidently not.” Heero shook his head again, what he did know of Duo’s past was what the braided boy said in his sleep, during the nightmares. And even then, it was not enough to piece together anything. 

“He’s likely afraid that you’ll judge him for his past. I think he’s afraid we all will.” Quatre said quietly, turning his attention to Duo on the bed.

“But that’s not really why I wanted to speak to you. Heero, what do you feel for Duo?” Heero felt Quatre was pointedly not looking at him for that question, and Heero paused. What were his feelings, and how would he even begin to put them into words. He had never experienced love, or even attraction, and he wasn’t sure that was what he felt now. He opened his mouth, trying to think of what to say, before closing it again. How did one put into words the depth of feeling he had for Duo? He pursed his lips and decided to just let it all come out.

“I want to protect him, but stand alongside him at the same time. I just want to be with him, even if nothing more than that comes of it. I want to see him smile, see him happy. I want to be the cause of his happiness, but I will be content if I am not, if he is truly happy. I …” He paused, unsure how to continue. Quatre turned to look at him, a small smile on his face.

“It’s alright, Heero. I understand. It’s hard, putting it into words. But you’re sincere, that I can easily tell. Continue to just be yourself and stay true to your feelings, and you’ll do fine.” The blonde said, his smile growing wider. Heero nodded, he had no words at the moment, and he turned to face Duo. They sat in silence for a good while.

“I think Duo is the strongest of us, Heero. He’s able to do what we all do, and stay true to himself, his nature, while doing so. Most of his carefree attitude is a mask, I’m sure you’ve realized that. I think we all have, and I don’t think Duo has realized we have. But those times when he is genuinely happy, genuinely smiling, even in the middle of this horrific war, that is true strength.” Quatre said, reaching out to lay his hand on Duo’s. Heero nodded mutely. They fell silent as a nurse walked in and checked things over, Heero lost in his swirling thoughts. He looked down, surprised to find Duo’s braid back in his hands. He glanced at Quatre out of the corner of his eye, but the blonde boy was intent on watching the nurse. The nurse eventually left, and Quatre sighed.

“I wish they would give us some sort of update, some news.” Quatre said softly, running his thumb over the back of Duo’s hand. The blonde was silent then for a few moments before he turned to Heero.

“Duo probably won’t tell you this, it took a while for me to get it out of him, but he is very tactile. That’s why he’s always casually touching us. Even just a casual touch means a lot to him.” Heero nodded. He had somewhat guessed as much, especially since he had found laying a hand on Duo’s shoulder or arm calmed the nightmares. Their quiet was suddenly disturbed by the sounding of alarms and Heero shot up, knocking the chair back in his movement. Nurses and the doctor came flooding in, and Heero felt himself being pulled backward by Quatre.


End file.
